For the Love of a Woman
by Masters of Mockery
Summary: While the Black Pearl's legacy has died, an old evil rises from the shadows of the past. An unknown foe rears his head; an old friend returns; Elizabeth is kidnapped and Will is once again forced to discover how far he will go for the love of a woman...
1. Chapter 1

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Disclaimer: As this is a continuation of the events of the movie _Pirates of the Caribbean_, most of the characters we have included in our writing do not belong to us and never will. They are simply here for your enjoyment :) The ones you _don't_ recognise are most likely our own creations, but they won't be coming into play for a while yet.

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A/N: Hey everyone! I'm naughty little munchkin and this _Pirates of the Caribbean_ story is a result of the combined efforts of myself and talented author, JoeyStar, and takes place approximately two months after the movie's events. We're both anxious to hear what you think of it, so please read and review! We'd love to know your thoughts on our ideas and writing, and any constructive criticism you might have up for grabs :)

But now, Chapter 1 awaits you…

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'For the Love of a Woman'

_Written by:__ JoeyStar & naughty little munchkin_

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Chapter One:

The last of the sun's rays vanished abruptly into the west, leaving behind only a dim orange light. Beyond the extensive docks of Port Royal, the ocean had turned a dazzling orange-blue from where the last shafts of light danced across its surface. Above the large Swann manor, the sky was already a dark purple and the first of the evening's stars now studded the clear stretch of velvet.

The passageway was quiet when the door to the servants' entrance creaked gently open, and a tall, slender girl crept silently through. Her honey-coloured hair was pulled loose from its normally immaculate coiffure, and her elegant blue gown – clean and smooth only that morning – was now creased and covered in thick grey streaks. With a furtive glance around her, she closed the door and leant against it with a relieved sigh.

In the faint orange glow of a nearby lamp, her hazel eyes danced – mirroring the candle's graceful flicker. A peculiar smile curled the edges of her mouth, her nose gently smeared grey with ash. She wore the look of someone who knew something others did not. A well-kept secret perhaps that she would disclose to nobody – and a particularly delicious one at that. All the same, her eyes were wary as she looked down the corridor ahead of her. If she had timed it right, the servants would be dining in the kitchens and her father would be up in his study, attending to the matters that frequently occupied his time. If she had been mistaken in her judgement, the usual sharp reprimand would not be the only chastisement awaiting her.

However, it appeared that luck was with her that night. Lifting her skirts slightly, she quickly moved down through the passageways and into the main part of the house. She peered around the corner that led into the empty entrance hall. All of a sudden she chuckled softly, eyes amused. To think she was be acting like a burglar in her own home! She laughed quietly again and, checking once more to make sure this part of the house was deserted, she flew up the stairs to her room where she quickly and quietly opened the door and closed it again once inside.

"Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth Swann stifled a shriek at the sound of the voice. She spun around, eyes widened in alarm, but relaxed as she saw her father, Governor Swann, standing by the window that overlooked almost the entire bay.

"Father, you scared me," she said with an uneasy laugh as she sagged against the door. She tried to give him her most winsome smile, but failed miserably. Beneath her feigned casualness, she felt far from relieved.

He was frowning at her, no doubt in disapproval of the disheveled state of her appearance. It was understandable, Elizabeth supposed. Normally she was impeccable in presentation – after all, she _was_ the daughter of the Governor! But things were slightly different now – the spectacular events of nearly two months ago had made sure of that.

Yet somehow, it still surprised Elizabeth that her father already seemed to have forgotten what had happened – the memories gone as if they had never been. It shouldn't have surprised her though. This was exactly the type of thing she'd have expected of him, particularly as she knew he was intensely opposed to change of any kind. But the thing that amazed her more than anything else, was the fact that he fully expected things to revert themselves back to the way they were – the way they were before Captain Jack Sparrow and Barbossa had cannoned themselves into their lives. That was asking the impossible! And it was even more so regarding the subject that she knew was about to come under discussion – again.

"Elizabeth, where have you been at this ungodly hour? It has been dark for quite some time now! I've been extremely worried."

"Oh, don't be silly," Elizabeth scoffed, knowing full well that he knew where she had been. She moved to the wooden cupboard and began rummaging through it. "Oh, it's not here," she exclaimed in annoyance. "Do you happen to know where Martha is? She said she would have my robe washed and back today!"

Governor Swann sighed. She always acted like this when he wanted to talk to her about something important. "Elizabeth," he tried again, "did you hear a word I said?"

"Hmm?" Elizabeth looked up from her vigorous search with a deliberately innocent look. "Oh, yes of course, Father," she said when he sighed again. "Firstly, I know that you know exactly where I've been. Secondly, the sun has only just set; and thirdly – ah! Here it is!" She held up the white dressing robe in triumph.

"Elizabeth," he said warningly.

Now it was Elizabeth's turn to sigh, her hands falling to her side. "Yes, Father. As I was saying, _thirdly_ – " she moved to spread the robe across the coverlet of the large canopy bed " – it is perfectly safe in Port Royal after dark anyway."

Her Father looked at her in shock. "Elizabeth! How could you say such a thing? Particularly after what happened with – with the – "

"Pirates?" Elizabeth supplied, fixing her father with a narrow-eyed look. "I thought you had forgotten." She shrugged, turning to the chest of drawers to look for her nightdress. "It appears I was wrong."

"Oh, _Elizabeth_!" he said for the umpteenth time that night. "You know I haven't forgotten what happened with the – yes, I _know_," he said warningly as he saw his sharp-witted daughter open her mouth again. "But that isn't what I want to talk to you about."

With her back to him, Elizabeth rolled her eyes. In all honesty, she really did love her father; but it was just that he was so… _slow_.

Nevertheless, she decided to humour him. "Very well then, what in all possibilities can you want to talk to me about that so insistently demands my immediate attention?"

Governor Swann started to speak, but then stopped and narrowed his eyes at her flippant tone. Elizabeth stopped as well and turned to look at him, dropping into a nearby chair as she did so. She folded her arms across her chest with an irritable look. "Well? Go on then. I'm listening."

He sighed again and moved to look out through the open window. "Elizabeth, you know I love you with all my heart, and ever since your mother died I have striven even harder to provide you with everything you could possibly want." Elizabeth impatiently began tapping her foot, knowing exactly what he was leading up to. She wished he would just get to the point already! But Governor Swann ignored her act of protest and continued on in his own sweet time. "But as your father, I also have it in mind to look after your best interests, and considering you are still so young and possessed of such youthful impulsiveness, I believe – "

"Father, I _know_ you don't approve of Will," she said bluntly, finally unable to take his tiresome prolixity any more.

He turned to her then, looking briefly startled. "Then you will understand that I am not too thrilled at your proposed engagement," he said, gazing at her solemnly. "William Turner is a fine young man to be sure, but – "

"But nothing!" Elizabeth yelled, jumping to her feet. Two angry spots of colour now bloomed in her cheeks. "Father, we've had this same conversation before – twice! And both times it ended the same way! I don't care that you preferred I married Norrington. I've made my decision and I've chosen Will!"

"He is a _blacksmith_, Elizabeth!" her father cried. "Just what kind of future do you think he can provide for you? For your _children_! Commodore Norrington is wealthy, respectable and of excellent social standing. _He_ is the one that can continue to give you the life you lead now."

"Will is an expert at his trade," she shouted furiously. "Already traders and merchants from England and other parts of the world have seen his craftsmanship and are willing to do business with him! All he needs now is a little time to wean himself fully away from that old drunkard, Brown, and establish a name for himself."

"But with your behaviour – that silly way you carry on with him – I would say that that is highly unlikely. Look at you! You are absolutely filthy! What is that, ash and soot on your face and clothes? What will the people say? I shudder to think! And my daughter too!"

Elizabeth's eyes darkened in fury. "Oh, and is _that_ all you're worried about – a good reputation and a scandal-free picture? Are you _really_ as shallow as all the other finicky nobles in this town? Will Turner saved my life! Or have you forgotten that ever-so-slight detail that everybody seems so willing to overlook? When Captain Barbossa kidnapped me, Will was the only one loyal and brave enough to try and rescue me!"

"No, he was the only one rash enough to attempt such a foolish course of action!" Governor Swann promptly returned. "And will _you_ disregard the fact that Commodore Norrington too was planning to rescue you? And certainly by no dishonest acts as well."

"But it was _Will_ who saved me, not Norrington," Elizabeth snapped, her anger reaching fever pitch. But all the same, she was nevertheless relieved that he had never discovered the truth regarding Will's pirate origins. If he thought the _act_ of piracy was bad, how would he react if he knew that Will really _was_ a pirate? "And what happened to your deciding that – oh, what was it now – oh yes, that the right course of action can sometimes be one of piracy? Tell me, Father, are you proud of being such a hypocrite?"

Governor Swann drew himself up indignantly. "Hypocrite?" he spluttered, blinking rapidly as if he did not quite know how to respond.

"Yes, a hypocrite," Elizabeth said furiously. "First of all you go back on your word as soon as it does not suit your needs, and secondly, you would never have spoken so severely of Will had he not been trying to marry _me_."

"I am only trying to look after your best interests," Governor Swann said, obviously trying to calm his anger – but apparently without much success.

"But marrying Will _is_ in my best interest!" Elizabeth cried, throwing up her arms in a combination of ire and exasperation. "We're in love."

"Love," the Governor said bitterly. "In this world, love is not a good enough reason to marry someone. It won't give you the fine clothes you are so fond of wearing, nor the food you eat. Love does nothing for you. For anyone!"

"It makes me happy," Elizabeth finally said, resorting to her last defense. It wasn't a very good one, in her opinion; but perhaps it was something a doting father just might accept. "Will makes me happy like no other man can. Don't you want me to be happy?"

It worked. "Oh, Elizabeth, of course I do," her father said in exasperate resignation, moving to stand directly in front of her. "But – "

"But just not Will, right Father?" she finished harshly.

His jaw clenched as if he was pressing his teeth together very tightly. The tight grey curls of his periwig twitched in irritation. "I had hoped you would marry someone from your own social class. Your equal."

"So you feel that Will can never be my equal?" Elizabeth said, stepping away from him. Her eyes were accusing. "Money and class does not – _cannot –_ determine that."

"Well, in this world they can. I'm trying to be realistic. Please listen to me, Elizabeth!" he suddenly pleaded. His voice sounded desperate.

But Elizabeth was unrelenting. "I _have_ listened to you, Father, and I have heard nothing to my liking." She turned away, grabbing the nightdress and robe from the bed as she did so, and moved behind the dressing screen. "I've nothing more to say to you. I'm tired."

At first there was no sound, but then she heard him sigh in defeat. The sound of footsteps reached her ears and then the door opened.

But before she could move, Governor Swann spoke again. "At least think over what I said, Elizabeth. And despite what I said in the beginning, I know you are capable of good judgement and I have faith that you will make the right decision, both for your benefit and William's. He would be trapped, you know, if he married you. He would be drawn into the whirl that is nobility, intrigue, gossip and politics. Commodore Norrington is well equipped to deal with such delicate complexities, but William Turner is the equivalent of a boy with a sword in these matters. Power can debase even the most respectable man, even if he has good intentions to begin with. Just remember, Elizabeth, that the road to corruption is paved with good intentions."

And before she could say anything more, the door clicked shut and she was left alone with his ominous parting words and her own troubled thoughts. 

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Later that night, when Martha had finished readying her for bed, Elizabeth tossed and turned restlessly, unable to get to sleep. Her father's words had unsettled her rather more than she'd like to admit and her mind was as active now as it had been during their argument. Suddenly, her stomach gave a sickeningly lurch. Her mouth soured. Quickly she threw back the covers and ran to the adjoining washroom where she retched up all the contents of her stomach into the basin. She groaned as the heaving stopped and drank a glass of water to dispel the vile taste that lingered in her mouth. 

Clutching her stomach, she walked slowly back to her bed wearing a puzzled frown. This had been happening a lot lately – sudden upsets that made her run to the washroom in panic, her stomach churning violently. And there were also those wretched headaches, which hammered at her like a blacksmith would his anvil, and really just a general feeling of queasiness that came and went at irregular intervals.

Elizabeth climbed back into the deliciously warm bedcovers and groaned in frustration. That was not troubling her so much tonight. It was rather a different matter. She closed her eyes but immediately opened them again, knowing already that sleep would not visit her for a long time yet.

Abandoning her futile attempts at slumber, she climbed slowly out of the bed and dropped into the nearby window seat, gazing out across the bay. The full moon cast its silver light upon the ocean water, illuminating it like an endless silver-blue jewel. A few lights flickered in the main part of the town below, but otherwise it was dark and quiet. Elizabeth smiled to herself. If she knew Will Turner, one of those lights would be his as he continued to forge and temper his beautifully crafted swords. He had told her he worked better at night, when it was quiet and peaceful and there were fewer distractions.

Her smile widened into a grin. He had looked at her with a mischievous twinkle in his eye when he said that, which said quite clearly that he considered her a distraction. She had laughed at his jest and playfully reprimanded him, although her protests had stopped when he carefully encircled her in his arms and gave her a gentle kiss.

"But you're one of the better ones, Elizabeth," he had then whispered softly with a loving smile after breaking away.

Elizabeth blushed at the thought of what had happened after that – what had happened quite a few times in the last month. She knew she was quite bold in character, but had not thought herself _that_ bold! Yet, ever since she had begun seeing Will, she seemed to have become a little more reckless, a little more impulsive than before. Perhaps it was due to the wild adventure they had both embarked upon together, less than two short months ago. Those events had stirred an excitement within her that she had not realised existed until she had prepared to settle back into her routinely life in Port Royal. She had discovered then that the endlessly boring life of a noble no longer held any interest for her. Now Will was the only one who managed to stir that same thrill within her – and in more ways than one…

A pleasurable tremor suddenly shivered down her spine, causing that same secret smile she had worn earlier to tickle the edges of her mouth. The touch of skin upon skin, the mingling warmth of each other's breath, and the passion they had shared… a pleasure restricted only to the time after the vows of matrimony had been taken. Convention of the upper houses demanded it. But then again, Elizabeth mused, her relationship with Will was _far_ from conventional according to general standards. And they were to be married anyway. There was no way her father, or indeed anyone for that matter, would ever find out.

At this thought, Elizabeth scowled darkly and brought up her knees upon which to rest her chin. Lately, little doubts had been tickling her mind as to whether their marriage would _ever_ take place. Her father had become more and more opposed to the match as days went by. Tonight had certainly illustrated that! All the other 'discussions' they had had concerning her betrothal to Will had never been as heated as this one. It was strange, for he had seemed perfectly accepting the day they had made it known they had feelings for each other – when they had helped Jack Sparrow escape from the gallows. But as time had passed, her father's anxiety did not diminish.

It was quite understandable, come to think of it, Elizabeth thought suddenly. After all, she had just been rescued from Captain Barbossa by Will and her father had probably been too overwhelmed with relief at having her safe at home again to be aware of the other 'implications' their marriage would bring.

"After all, he _is_ a Blacksmith," she quoted her father out loud, bitterness lacing her voice. So perhaps he had not been so blind. She wasn't sure. She already knew his thoughts on the issue at hand. What did it matter that she didn't know it then?

Her father's opinion wasn't only reserved for himself, she knew. Many of the other noble families here – not many in total since most had not wanted to leave the comfort and luxury of the English Court – shared his view. Their smiles were somewhat stilted as they greeted her, and whispers and gossip followed her around like trails of smoke from a fire. To the noble ladies, Will Turner was merely another handsome young man to flirt with – certainly not a prospective husband! Nobody said anything openly though. As daughter of the Governor she still commanded a certain respect, and the fact that Norrington was on her side – surprising, given that he had lost her hand in marriage – stilled those with looser tongues.

Commodore Norrington. He was a fine and noble man – everything her father had said and more. He was what every woman should dream of marrying. But he was too reserved for her, too distant and too strictly adhering to the rules of convention that governed social behaviour. This made her all the more surprised that he would stand by her, siding with her over something that definitely exceeded the boundaries he was so fond of. Or maybe…

"No, that can't be right," Elizabeth snapped out loud to the open window. "That's impossible!" He _couldn't _still be in love with her! Not after she had accepted and then rejected him – and rather cruelly too, she admitted silently. The idea was preposterous! No man, not even the noble Commodore Norrington, would stand for that kind of insult. What she had done to him was terrible, but she could not help that Will had so thoroughly captured her heart.

Thinking of Will made her smile once more. She rested her folded arms on the windowsill, her thoughts softening. With his dark features and dashing good looks, he made her sigh every time she saw him. It was more than that, of course. He was kind and gentle, with a loyal and passionate spirit that always ignited a fire in his eyes, embers that smouldered with love and fondness whenever he looked at her. He was brave, almost to the point of rashness, but it was tempered by a persistent shyness that she had tried and tried again to draw him out of, but without success. Nevertheless, Elizabeth suspected that if he had been any different, she would not have loved him as much as she did now.

Yet sometimes, his sensitivity vexed her. Elizabeth sighed as she remembered. He had been telling her of the time he had spent with Jack while on his way to rescue her. "It was absolute genius the way we stole the _Interceptor_ right out from under his nose, Liz! You should have seen his face!" he had crowed, his eyes bright with the remembered excitement.

She had hidden a grin at that and instead pretended to be offended by his familiarity. "Why, Mr. Turner, I daresay you forget yourself! In future, please refrain from addressing me with such intimacy, for it is Miss. Swann to you!"

She had been jesting of course, and her tone – she had thought – had clearly indicated that. But instead of the laugh and quick smile of his that she had expected, his expression sobered and he looked at her with something almost akin to hurt in his eyes. "I am sorry, Miss. Swann," he had said in perfect seriousness. "I had forgotten. Forgive me, it won't happen a second time."

There it had been again – that endless reference to their very different social backgrounds. It had taken her _weeks_ to reassure him. Could they never escape? Probably not, particularly if Will kept seeing fit to remind her of it. One would think that he _wanted_ her to stop seeing him.

A sudden shout from somewhere in the darkness jolted her out of her thoughts. She sat up straighter in the chair and gripped the windowsill. Unable to see a great deal, she leaned further outside, squinting into the darkness. More shouting then joined in with the loud clamour of voices and dimly she could see figures running back and forth across the battlements of the fort where the torches of fires burned brightly. Something was happening down there but she couldn't be sure what.

Before she could investigate further, however, a quiet noise from somewhere down below her window caught her attention instead. She looked down, trying to pierce the shadows but with no luck at all. She was still straining to make out the shadowy shapes below when there was a step behind her and something hard slammed into her head. Elizabeth cried out at the sudden fire that stabbed her, but it quickly disappeared as she sunk gratefully into a black, painless cloak of unconsciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** As this is a continuation of the events of the movie _Pirates of the Caribbean_, most of the characters we have included in our writing do not belong to us and never will. They are simply here for your enjoyment :) The ones you _don't_ recognise are most likely our own creations, but they won't be coming into play for a while yet.

**A/N:** Hiya – this is JoeyStar with the second chapter of this enthralling story : ) Not a great deal to say as naughtylittlemunchkin firmly introduced the fic in chapter one – I just hope you enjoy it!

Oh and here are the thankyou's:

**Araminta Ditch:** here you are – proof that we ARE going to continue with this fic. As for your guess about Elizabeth … hmm, not sure I should agree or disagree so I'm just going to say: read on and find out : )

**Kuramasgirl556:** Whew – long name! Yup, we are definitely gonna make this fic longer, though I can't say how many chapters it's going to be yet – guess we'll have to wait and see. Hope you enjoy the chappie!

**Obsessed: **I know what you mean about Will/Elizabeth fanfics – we started one ourselves because at heart, we're sappy romantics who loved PotC! Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chappie and keep reviewing!!

Oh and this chappie is dedicated to our first reviewers, **Obsessed**, **Kuramasgirl556** and **Araminta Ditch** – thanks guys and I hope you continue to read and review our work!

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**'For the Love of a Woman'**

**_Written by: _**_JoeyStar & naughtylittlemunchkin_

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**Chapter Two:**

The black ship cut through the silent ocean as swiftly as an arrow from a limber bow. Her sails billowed in the wind created by the speed of her passage – the only drop of colour against an otherwise featureless vessel. At her helm stood a single man, his hand outstretched as he considered something resting on his palm. With one careless twist of the wheel, he altered the course of the vessel and then looked back at his hand once more. He repeated this process twice more before snapping whatever he held shut and shoving it deep inside his coat. He began singing idly; tunelessly – random words discernible in amongst the general noise.

" … Pillage and plunder … and really bad eggs … drink up me hearties, yo ho!"

With that triumphant finale under his belt, Captain Jack Sparrow wandered to the prow of the ship – _his _ship – and stared moodily down at the sea as it lapped up against the side of the _Black Pearl_. Thanks to a particularly strong gust of wind and the fact that he was leaning over the edge of the ship, he felt his hat begin to slide down over his forehead. Reaching up impatiently, he pulled it off and eyed the triangle of material unfavourably. After a few moments of angry staring, he realised the hat had nothing to say for itself and he shoved it back onto his head. He also realised that all things considered, the disposition of his hat was the least of his worries.

Jack scowled blackly. This whole mess had begun when they had left Port Royal. No, he corrected himself irritably; it had actually started before that – when a particularly annoying and persistent young blacksmith had decided that he, Jack, would be the one to help save his ladylove.

_Yes,_ Jack thought as he stared sullenly out across the ocean, _that's where all my troubles began. With bloody Will Turner and his sudden damn decision to become a hero – something he felt he just couldn't achieve my help. Which led us on a fool's errand, halfway across the Caribbean … for a woman._

Now, Jack Sparrow _could _admire Elizabeth Swann – or was it Turner by now? – as a woman, but chasing her half-way around the world? That was just crazy … typical Will Turner crazy. If he was that desperate for a woman then the boy needed to spend more time in Tortuga.

Jack narrowed his eyes as something on the horizon caught his attention. It was little more than a dark smudge on the edge of the ocean. He stared at it for a few seconds but then his gloomy thoughts overtook him once more, he dismissed it.

_Will and Elizabeth. Will Turner and Elizabeth Swann. _

Somehow, everything seemed to come back to them. Every bad thing that had happened in Jack's life, every terrible misfortune that he had suffered had all been the result of him meeting the young lady and her blacksmith love.

Now, Jack was fair for a pirate. He was as magnanimous as the next man and could accept almost everything the young couple had dragged him into. But there was one thing that no matter how long he lived, how far he sailed, he would _never _forgive them for.

Norrington.

Before coming to Port Royal Jack had heard of Norrington – what pirate hadn't? He was the scourge of the Caribbean – _or likes to think he is _ – and was the single reason pirates avoided Port Royal like the plague. Of course, Jack had never been like other pirates and when he had first rolled into Port Royal, the thought of meeting Commodore Norrington hadn't been high in his thoughts.

Of course now, he couldn't avoid the damn man. And that was all thanks to bloody Elizabeth and bloody Will.

Since leaving Port Royal, Norrington had been trailing him – much as a dog followed a particularly juicy bone. Every time Jack picked out a promising location that would yield a pleasing amount of loot, Norrington was there. Every time Jack brought _The Black Pearl_ into harbour, if only for a drink, Norrington was there. Every time Jack attempted to outrun the English Commodore, Norrington was there. For while _The Black Pearl _was the fastest ship in the Caribbean, catching Jack Sparrow was a point of professional pride for Norrington and he truly epitomised the image of an upper class naval officer. And although Jack hated to admit it, he couldn't help but have a grudging respect for the man that was continuing to make his life a living hell.

The dark smear on the horizon was growing steadily larger and it once again snared Jack's wandering attention. As he idly walked the fingers of one hand up and down the worn wheel, the other reached inside his long coat and withdrew a darkly golden cylinder that he lengthened with the flick of his wrist and casually placed against his eye.

Now that the mark on the horizon was magnified, Jack could see that it wasn't just a lump of driftwood as he had first thought. It was actually a great deal bigger than that. It almost looked like …

Shaking his head and cursing the damage the sun had done to his brain during those long, lonely days suffered when Barbossa had stranded him on that God-forsaken island, Jack withdrew the spyglass and tapped it thoughtfully against his lips.

A step sounded behind him but he didn't turn around, knowing from the strong whiff of rum that Gibbs had just joined him on deck.

"What you looking at?" Obviously Gibbs had noted the spyglass in Jack's hand – an impressive feat for a man always a step away from being truly drunk.

"You see there?" Jack gestured vaguely in the direction of the dark mark. Gibbs followed the direction of his hand and shrugged. In one hand he held his ever-present flask.

_I wonder if there's any rum left in there._ He eyed the flask thoughtfully._ If I wait until he's looking the other way …_

"I don't see anything," Gibbs told him, swaying slightly. Looking at him, Jack doubted he would have seen a hand in front of his face. The man really needed to cut back on his drinking before he did himself some damage. "What am I s'posed to be looking at?"

It was Jack's turn to shrug – be damned if he knew. He leant against the wheel, watching Gibbs. "And why have you graced me with your oh so ripe presence this evening?"

Gibbs frowned as he worked his way through the sentence. Jack could be annoying obscure when he wanted to be. "We've all been wondering where we're going, Cap'n? You haven't said much since –" he broke off, and decided to take a swig of the rum rather than continue what he had been about to say.

He didn't need to. Jack knew the words 'since Norrington' would have been in Gibbs's sentence somewhere. And Gibbs wasn't the only one to be voicing such thoughts. Anamaria had told him _exactly_ what she thought of the situation only a couple of days before – in full voice _and _in front of half the crew. When Jack had patiently tried to explain that none of this was his fault and that, if she would just remember, it had been _Will _who had got Norrington involved in the first place, Anamaria hadn't looked very impressed. In fact, she had just shouted louder, almost bursting his eardrums. Damn that man and his uptight, moral values!

At that moment, Jack honestly couldn't say whether he meant Will or Norrington.

Or both.

"We're returning to safe ground, savvy?" he replied after a careful pause.

"Ah." Comprehension dawned over Gibbs's red face. He lifted the flask to his lips once more and then paused, brow furrowed in thought. "And where would that be exactly?"

"Tortuga, mate – where else?" Jack declared dramatically. "The pirate capital of the world."

"Or of the Caribbean at least."

"Say what?"

Gibbs gestured with his flask. "Well I doubt the Chinese pirates come all the way over here for a good time."

Jack stared at him. "Chinese pirates?" he repeated slowly._ I know this man sleeps with pigs … but honestly!_

Gibbs nodded seriously. "You've been over there haven't you, sir? So do the Chinese pirates look very different from us?"

"Oh yes … _very _different."

"In what way, Captain?"

Jack leant forward until their foreheads were almost touching. "Well, Gibbs," he whispered in a conspiratorial tone, "don't let anyone else know but … they're _Chinese_."

Deciding to leave Gibbs with that startling piece of information, Jack twirled on his boot heel, the beads in his hair rattling as they knocked gently against one another. "Mr Gibbs, you have the ship."

"Aye, aye, Cap'n," Gibbs responded automatically, a glassy look in his eye as he pondered his way through Jack's words.

"And you're not to wake me, savvy?"

"Aye, sir."

"Not for anything."

"Aye, sir."

"I don't care if we sail over the edge of the damn world." Jack paused and held up a hand. "Actually, that _is _something I'd like to see. Wake me if that happens, savvy?"

"Aye, sir." Gibbs glazed look was spreading across his entire face.

"But not for anything else." Jack turned to leave and then swung back again. "Unless of course we capture Norrington. You can wake me for that. I could do with a good laugh."

"Aye, sir."

"And Gibbs?" As swift as a snake, Jack reached forward and ripped the flask of rum away from the bemused man, looking at it with an air of disapproval. "No drinking on the job."

It was sometimes strange how prophetic words could be. As he strolled away from Gibbs, his spirits restored in more ways than one. He tossed the flask of rum from one hand to the other, weighing how much remained within. Jack had no idea that he had just accurately described a man's fate, and that his life was about to be made a mockery of – all over again.

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A loud, piercing voice woke an annoyed Jack from slumber. He'd been having the most amazing dream: he'd been locked in the hold of a ship with ten bottles of rum, but after drinking them all dry he'd found to his amazement that they kept refilling themselves. And then, when he had consumed a sufficient amount of the delicious rum and his head was beginning to feel woolly, the bottles had started to dance and sing that song – the one Elizabeth had taught him. _I love that song …_

"Jack Sparrow!"

There it was again – that incessant voice. It dogged his daily life from one end of the ship to the other and now it invaded his dreams too. As the dancing rum bottles faded from his mind he opened his eyes a crack and glared in the general direction of the intruder.

"Wake _up_!"

A slender brown hand pulled back his rough woollen blanket and struck him sharply across the face. The blow was unnecessarily hard, Jack thought as he dragged his rum-fogged brain out of the dream. And he was fairly certain he hadn't done anything recently to deserve such treatment from a woman.

"Oh you lazy –" The hand shot out again but this time Jack intercepted it, gripping Anamaria's wrist and twisting it slightly.

"I'm awake, love," he said in a dangerous tone. He shifted around in the bed and pulled out that flask of Gibbs, which had given him so much pleasure the night before.

The night before? Jack frowned at the porthole to his left and realised it was still dark outside. He had been disturbed from his best dream all year and it was still dark? Jack jabbed a finger at the porthole, eyes wild. "What's meaning this?!" The words came out in an almost intelligible jumble thanks to a lethal mixture of rum and lack of sleep.

Anamaria folded her arms across her chest, looking unimpressed. "Gibbs sent me to wake you."

Jack sighed. What was it about women that made them so difficult? "It's dark. I'm sleeping, savvy?" He tried to pull the covers back over his head but she was too quick for him.

"It's dark, you're getting up, savvy?" she retorted acidly. "Or do you want me to slap you again?"

Now that he was awake, Jack saw no point in staying abed – or at least that's what he told himself. It certainly wasn't the threat of Anamaria's slap that made him roll over and plant his feet on the wooden floor of the cabin.

He stretched luxuriously, looking up to find that Anamaria was watching him. "Like what you see?" Jack raised his eyebrows suggestively; ducking on reflex as Anamaria's hand narrowly missed his face. As he straightened up, she threw his coat at him and stamped out of the cabin, slamming the door behind her.

_Women._

Jack laughed as he pulled the familiar garment onto his back. Anamaria would never change. He genuinely liked the girl – she was a good pirate, for a woman, that was – and with her fiery temper and exotic good looks, she would be a prize catch for any man. And just at the moment, Jack was rather interested in that man being him … but so far any overtures he had made had been rebuffed. He would just have to work harder in the future … or return to Tortuga – whichever came first.

Head still thick with sleep, Jack dragged his boots on and clattered out of the cabin and up onto the deck. He was slightly taken aback to see not only Gibbs and Anamaria, but the entire crew – including Mr Cotton's parrot – arranged in a group at the prow of the ship, their backs to him.

Jack waited for a few moments but no one turned around.

"What's a bloke got to do to get some attention around here?' he muttered darkly, stomping across the ship towards them, his boots making enough noise to wake the dead.

He was rather disconcerted at the fact that there was still no recognition from his crew; their eyes remained firmly fixed on whatever it was that they were staring at. Jack rocked back on his heels, debating the merits of loudly announcing his presence. But then his curiosity got the better of him and he hurried forward, pushing between Cotton and Anamaria, and squinting out into the night.

With a thrill of surprise, Jack realised that his earlier assumption had been bang on the money. What had once been a dark shape on the horizon – then little more than a pile of driftwood – was now floating alongside _The Black Pearl._

It was a ship. Or at least, the remains of a ship.

What had once been a ship was now little more than a broken shell. The entire structure was blackened by fire; the mast had been snapped clean in two and the sails hung in ragged strips, charred at the white edges. The vessel had been gutted so completely that Jack was amazed it hadn't sunk to the bottom of the ocean. Who knew how long it had been out here, floating on the waves in the middle of the Caribbean Sea.

"What do you make of that?"

Jack tugged on the twin braids of his beard before answering Gibbs's rather breathless question. He could understand why his First Mate sounded so shocked – this was more than just a simple pirate raid. Someone had hated this ship so much that they had completely decimated it.__

"An abandoned wreck, floating in the middle of the Caribbean Sea," Anamaria said, unconsciously mirroring Jack's own thoughts. "Something you'd expect to find in a ship-graveyard rather than here."

She was right and Jack suddenly wondered where the ship had come from. He located the prow and worked his way down to where the name would normally have been located. However, due to the sheer extent of the damage caused by the fire, the paintwork was blackened and melted and no discerning features could be seen.

_I wonder if there's any plunder left? _The thought drifted idly through Jack's mind as he stared out at the ship. _If there is, then maybe Anamaria will finally get off my back. And at least bloody Norrington isn't around to stop us._

Worried that the thought was tempting fate, Jack half-glanced over his shoulder, checking for Norrington's ship. For once, it was nowhere in sight and Jack had never seen such a welcome set of empty waves.

"Who cares where its come from!" he said loudly, feeling reckless and seeing a way to regain much of the reputation that Norrington's continuing presence had lost him. "It's ours now, savvy? So what do you think, my friends? Worth a look-see?"

The reply was unanimous and members of his crew quickly scurried back into the hold, only to re-emerge with boarding ramps and ropes that would secure the broken wreck to _The Black Pearl_ while they scoured the ship's interior for hidden secrets.

As Jack crossed to the first ramp he found himself wondering just what had happened to reduce the strange ship to such a state. There could be any number of explanations and while he wouldn't normally have cared, there was something curious about this situation that tugged at the back of his mind.

_Plunder,_ he told himself as he gingerly stepped down onto the blackened deck._ Focus on the plunder. _

He needed little urging. While select members of his crew began to join him on the deck, Jack ducked inside what he had quickly identified as the main hold and began poking around.

He had only been searching the ship for five minutes of so when his sense of unease grew. Something about this situation was seriously wrong. The ship was _full_ of spoils to be had by him and his crew – most located in such obvious places that even the blindest of pirates couldn't have failed to spot them. He was beginning to suspect a trap when a familiar voice called his name.

"Jack!"

"Dammit woman, I'm not deaf," he muttered, as he picked his way down a rubble-strewn corridor, following the sound of Anamaria's unforgettable voice. Presently he saw her, standing with her hands up against a set of bars, her face turned away from him. She was obviously speaking to someone because she laughed scornfully and said, " Just because I'm a woman, doesn't mean that I'm stupid!"

If they had had time and a better situation, Jack would have disputed that fact. However, in the interest of keeping the peace he opted to clear his throat instead. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

Anamaria shot him a look fuelled with such weary disgust that Jack had to resist the urge to cringe. _That girl has scarily powerful eyes_, he decided, before walking forward the remaining couple of feet, and peering over Anamaria's shoulder.

There were many times in his life that Captain Jack Sparrow had been surprised. Most of these times he had succeeded in keeping his true feelings concealed behind his indolent mask. Yet every once in a while, something came along that so surprised him, he couldn't hide it.

This was one of those times.

"Bugger me!" He gaped at the figures huddled on the other side of the bars – which turned out to be the ship's holding cells. The men were in a pitiful condition; torn, filthy uniforms, cramped and standing in a good two inches of water – but here was no denying who they were. Jack particularly recognised the familiar sneer on the face of the central man, whose white wig was hanging in straggling clump around his red face and when their eyes met, the sneer faded fast from the other man's face until he looked almost distraught.

"Of all the potential rescuers in the entire Caribbean, it just _had _to be you, didn't it?"

Jack grinned and pressed his face up against the iron bars. The man flinched back as he spoke. "Lieutenant Gillette. How – erm – _wonderful _to see you again. Do send my regards to Norrington, won't you?"

Gillette sniffed and lifted his head. "How very droll, Sparrow. As if you had nothing to do with this."

"To do with what?" Jack threw his arms wide in a gesture that encompassed the whole ship. "To do with this? Oh no, mate, you've got me all wrong."

The lieutenant ignored him. "I always told Commodore Norrington that giving you that extra day was a mistake," he said mournfully.

"If you hadn't given us that day then we wouldn't be here now and you'd probably die in this stinking hold!" fiery Anamaria spat, slamming her hands against the bars and actually making Gillette jump.

As much as Jack loved baiting Gillette – who along with Norrington thought that he was the worst pirate they had ever seen – he was feeling incurably nosy. "What happened here?"

Gillette glared at him. For a moment Jack didn't think he was going to answer, but then Gilette apparently realised the pirate was the one with the proverbial key – even if he didn't have the _actual_ key to the cell at that moment – and that it would be better to co-operate with him.

"It was about five days ago. We were still following you," his face twisted into a grimace, "when we spotted another ship on the horizon, approaching us at speed."

"We never had a chance, sir!" one of the other prisoners piped up nervously. "They completely destroyed us."

Gillette cleared his throat pointedly and the young man fell silent. "They attacked us under the cover of darkness – and we didn't have a chance. They quickly subdued our men and then their leader ordered his pirates to 'grab every bit of booty they could'."

Jack scratched his head, wondering whether the story was ever going to get any more interesting.

"Then things became more interesting."

_Great minds, my friend. Great minds._

"Their leader overheard two of the men talking about something and – well, you've never seen such a change come over a man. He told his men to leave the ship alone and forced two of ours to repeat the conversation."

"And which two men were having this conversation?" Jack drawled, eyes roving the cage of prisoners.

"Um … we were, sir." It was the nervous young man who had spoken before. He indicated his small, mousy-haired friend as the other man and took a small step forward, which was as much as he could in the enclosed space of the cell. "I whispered to Matthew here, that being overrun by pirates was like that time when Will Turner teamed up with that pirate – " he gulped " – er, _you _sir, and you had that adventure, with the evil zombies and everything."

_Will Turner. Why is it that wherever I go, his name seems to come up? _

"Oh, and the man, he asked us more about that story and I said I didn't know a lot because I wasn't there; but Commodore Norrington had led the navy forces and –" the boy broke off, looking horrified " – and then he – he took the Commodore!"

"Took the Commodore?" Jack repeated sceptically. Any pirate worth half his salt wouldn't do something so stupid.

"He speaks the truth, Sparrow," Gillette cut in. "After that he had us locked in here, ordered his crew to make the ship look like it had been destroyed, and then left with the Commodore."

Jack tapped his chin with the fingers of one hand. He'd thought he'd heard – or seen – everything that he could have in the Caribbean, during his long years as a pirate. But he'd never heard of anyone suicidal enough to take on the full weight of the English Navy – which was what an act like kidnapping Norrington had just ensured. Whoever this stranger was, Jack wished him well.

"What did this 'leader' look like?" Anamaria was asking, showing an unusual level of initiative for a woman.

Gillette shook his head stubbornly. "No, I'm not telling you anything more until you let us out of here!"

Jack's good-humoured smile slipped from his face and he stared directly into Gillette's eyes, the cool iron bars the only thing separating them. "Around here, _I_ make the rules, savvy? And you'll come out when I _say _you come out."

Gillette clearly wanted to say something more but obviously realised the precarious nature of his predicament and swallowed his angry retort. "The man was… large. Tall, with dark hair, and he was dressed in black."

"Any distinguishing features?" Jack asked, more out of habit than any real interest. He'd just caught sight of a glimmer of gold off to the left and was debating sneaking over to find out what it was.

"Not really … well, actually there _was _one thing. He had a peculiar scar – it ran from the left side of his face, down his neck and then there was another, smaller one that crossed his neck underneath his chin," Gillette said grudgingly. "Almost like an 'X'."

Jack, who had been in the process of working his way across to where he had seen the golden reflection, froze upon hearing this news. He glanced back at Gillette, his eyes calculating. "An 'X' you say?"

"Are you deaf as well as a pirate?" Gillette scoffed, using that uncanny ability of his to turn anything into an insult. "Now are you going to let us out of here?"

Jack considered the question. "No," he said calmly, walking away from the hold and ignoring the angry cries of the men he left behind.

Anamaria followed him and he could tell by the look on her face that she was going to ask him some awkward questions.

"Why did you ask about the scar?"

_Oh yes, the awkward question. Why do women have to be so damn inquisitive?_

"It was just a question," he tried innocently but she wasn't fooled.

"Don't make the mistake of thinking that I'm stupid, Jack Sparrow," she warned him, dark eyes level. "I may not be a man, but I've got twice as many brains as most of your crew. So tell me about this man – and don't try to pretend that you don't know him."

Jack sighed, cursing Will Turner for the hundredth time that day. After all, it had been through Will that Anamaria had become a member of his crew – yet another thing he had to thank the Turner whelp for.

"Alright, alright," he said finally, knowing he couldn't lie to her anymore. "I _do _know the man that the lovely lieutenant told us about – or at least I think I do."

"Why? Because of the scar?" Anamaria tossed her dark hair back over one shoulder and sniffed. "That's a poor picture to go by."

"Not really," Jack disagreed. "It's a very distinctive scar."

"And how do you know that?"

Now he looked faintly troubled. "Because I gave it to him."


End file.
